The Skull and the Cipher
by Francis Sweetwood
Summary: This is a story about the relationship between Major Zero and his Executive Officer or "XO". The chapters are mainly conversations they've had during major events in the Metal Gear Saga.
1. The Debriefing

September 15th 1964

Washington DC

4.28AM

Autumn had arrived. He could feel it, the dampness of the atmosphere and the ruffling of leaves in the wind as he awaited his debriefing. Time for the spy to come in from the cold. He'd been in the cold too long he thought. While the other one had come home and gotten the recognition he owed so much to this agent, he had to wait almost two weeks just for his debriefing. He didn't mind, after all his life's work was never about recognition. It was all he knew anyway, intrigue and covert activity had been the staple of his being for what now seemed decades. So it was no big deal for him to stand under a lamp on a dark September morning waiting for the time to reach 4.30, the time for his meeting with his old commander. "XO." Uttered a nearing voice. "Punctual as always." The Major felt even more pleased in choosing this man as his right hand. "Major…Appearing out of the shadows as always." The agent reciprocated his appreciation. As Sokolov said, a man of his word.

"Let's sit." The Major gestured to the bench across from the lamp. The Major and his XO walked over and planted themselves carefully on the cold bench. "Flying colours." declared the Major. "So the DCI is happy with the result?" The two men stayed quiet as a jogger moved past them. Now that he was out of earshot, "The DCI wants to keep FOX in the intelligence community while carrying out covert military action." The XO looked to his commander. "And my province?" The Major knew he wouldn't take it personally. Without hesitation he replied, "Well you're an off the books unit made to support FOX from the shadows, you don't belong in the light." The XO grinned. "So we're still in business I take it?" The Major nodded as he looked to the distance. "We owe our success to you and your men. You watched his back and I'll watch yours. WE will watch yours. The are some in the CIA who still regard you as a hero for getting rid of 'Old Joe' and cooling down this war for a little while longer." Recognition of his greatest work, while unneeded still gratified his ego. "So what's next?" Eager for his next mission. "I'll contact you with the details once you've reached Saigon. Your team is already there awaiting your arrival." He reached into his charcoal black overcoat and pulled out a plane ticket. "Your flight leaves at noon." The XO lazily took the ticket and put it into his overcoat. "Vietnam." He muttered. The Major stood up and turned to face his best assassin. "The Bolshies go beyond the Iron Curtain old boy. Running amok in the Mekong Delta?! They're likely to be up to no good. There'll be a fellow from your team to pick you up once you land. Until we meet again XO." The Skull faced man lazily again tipped his ten gallon hat to his Major. "A pleasure as always…Cipher." The major walked away into the light blue sky, somewhat irked that his XO knew his codename from his days as an intelligence officer with MI6. After all David did like to keep his secrets.


	2. The Devil You Know

"Hurry up and wait." The Major muttered to himself as he took a drag of his cigarette, looking out into the dampness that was Budapest. That old British Army tradition of being early and waiting, stuck to his mind as he waited for his contact. It seemed a far cry from where he was ten years ago, rolling through the Egyptian desert in a Jeep with his SAS comrades and his old friend. He did miss that life of action back during the war but now that line stuck to his head even more. Intelligence work requires the utmost patience, hurrying up to ensure your meeting place is secure before waiting to meet your contact. He turned around to face the table. Checking to see if he brought the right alcohol. He didn't strike the Major as the kind of man to drink, but what harm could a bottle of scotch do for a meeting of this sort. A penny was thrown at the window from the outside. It was time. Luckily the boy who had just joined the service was punctual with his warnings. He sat outside having a cigarette at the café below, acting as the Major's lookout. For a young man of his inexperience, this was a truly extraordinary experience, to work for the legendary O on an operation behind the Iron Curtain. But he knew to keep his mouth shut and keep his eyes open when he had to.

The Major opened the door and there he stood. Tall, skeletal and malevolence was his aura. He doffed his flat cap to the Major, "A common acquaintance said you had a proposition for me." The Major still in shock at the visage of the man he wanted to see, gestured towards the table. The man wore a long leather overcoat, not very Soviet, but very Gestapo. He removed it and sat in the chair opposite the Major. He wore matching leather gloves which he appeared not to want to remove. "So, you're the one they call Death." began the Major. The man leaned back and threw his arms over his head. "Call me what you will, I still know nothing of you." He replied in a very eloquent English composure. Possibly taught by the NKVD, thought the Major. "My name is Zero, I'd like to talk to you about joining the other team." The skull faced man thought for a moment. "I'm supposing you mean MI6?" The Major poured two glasses of scotch and lit another cigarette, offering one to the other man. "Not exactly no. You'll be working alongside them as I do but you would be placed in a unit where a man of your talents can hone is instruments. He lit the other man's Bulgarian cigarette and sat back down. "What have you heard of my talents?" asked the Skull. "Well from what our mutual friend has told me, you have a knack for taking lives quietly and professionally." The Skull faced man got up slowly and began pacing towards the window.

"How much do you really know, David?" The Major turned aghast, "How did you find out my name?". The Skull took a long drag as he stared out of the window. "Intelligence is everything Major…". He turned back to face him. "It pays to know who the players are on the other side." The Major grabbed his drink and took a rather quick swig. "Intelligence IS everything. That's why having a man such as yourself on our side would carry with it heavy benefits." The Skull walked slowly around the table and placed his hands on the wooden chair opposite the Major. "A comfortable life in the West? All the riches and glamour of a life in London?" The Major took a long puff as he stared into the eyes of a man who had seen his share of evil. "You don't strike me as the kind of man who cares for such frivolity." He retorted. The Skull faced man stubbed out his cigarette. "Then how would one go about…incentivising a man like myself?" The Major leaned in, clasping his hands together. "A man such as yourself has no care for money or women. A man like yourself has principles and skill. You crave the work. From what our friend has told me…you're the kind of man who WANTS to do this work. Some men, they can't stand what they do. They reprimand themselves for even doing their job. You on the other hand love what you do, perhaps it's the only thing you've ever loved doing, but most importantly, you like doing this work because it gives you a chance to strike at those who made you who you are. That is what I am offering. Somewhat of a bonus to a comfortable life in the West." The Major stubbed out his cigarette and looked back at the Skull. "Interesting proposition…Although I do have one small request." The Major nodded. Sitting back down, The Skull took a long swig of the Glenmorangie. "I'd like a case of this scotch delivered to my home every month, along with a mission in Hungary at least once a year." The Major reflected for a moment and leaned back into his chair. "I see you don't want to leave your people at the hands of the Soviets." The Skull smiled and slowly began to chuckle, even that was enough to convince the Major that this was no ordinary man. "If my people want to survive, then they will. If they don't…they won't. That is my philosophy." He finished his scotch and got up to put his coat on. "I just want to make the Soviets suffer for what they've taken from me. I'll see you at Broadway Buildings on…let's say…next Monday for my debriefing? He placed the flat cap on his white burnt dome and made his way out. The Major couldn't help feeling impressed by the man's personality. No it was the devil inside him that made him realise he picked the right man for the wetwork he had in store for him.

The Major stepped into the cold rubbing his hands and looked towards the boy, who promptly got up to get the car ready. As he entered he removed his fedora and looked at the young man. "The devil you know, young George. Is better than the devil you don't. Let's get back to the embassy."


End file.
